Inadvertently
it happens
you glide your hand along the table
and the ceramic
b r e a k s
except it is not the ceramic
it is my heart
it suffers from the lack of
'handle with care'

you leave the pieces on the floor
I neatly glue them together
and now it is a decor piece
it's golden scars
are a beauty
and the ceramics burden
is nothing but disbelief in it's capacity to hold

it used to hold something
i forget now what it was
like I forgot about
an apology that never came
forgave the moving of your hand across a table
and the walking away of your feet

Forgiveness is a cruel invention
because even the rot in your soul
is blessed with all the love
that I have to offer
how inhuman.
or divine?
or devilish?
~M